


Uneven Odds

by sxnsetlr



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate universe - Mafia, Angst, Domestic Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mafia Boss Bellamy, Protective Bellamy, Slow Burn, clarke is 17 at the beginning but nothing happens, costia is clarke’s older sister, finn is the biggest piece of shit, i removed the clexa tag bc people were complaining but clarke and lexa are a big part of this story!, this story has some dark themes! it is not for the faint of heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 07:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxnsetlr/pseuds/sxnsetlr
Summary: Clarke Griffin has always simply existed. Always just been the shy shadow of her gorgeous, prodigal older sister. That is, until she stumbles upon Bellamy Blake.TW: (Abusive Relationship, not perpetrated  by the main characters, Mentions of Suicide, and Depression)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read this, please know that this story isn’t for everyone and can get quite dark. The beginning of Clarke Griffin’s story is not a happy one. You will see her grow and understand her worth throughout the story! Enjoy and thank you for reading (:

Clarke did not need therapy. She really didn’t. But nonetheless, here she was.

“So Clarke, how are you feeling today?”

Dr. Sydney was probably the most annoying person she had ever met. She had good intentions, sure, but she failed to see or help Clarke with any of her so called “obstacles”. God, she wanted to get out of here.

She forced a smile, her cheeks hurting, not used to the motion. “Ah, just peachy.”

She swore she saw Dr. Sydney’s eyes roll back in her head, probably sick of Clarke’s indifference.

“Clarke,” she sat up straighter, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what is wrong.”

And just like every other week, Clarke replies, “Why assume that there is anything wrong in the first place?”

Clarke has been doing this whole therapy thing for a while now. When she was 15, her mom insisted that Clarke wasn’t a standard teenager, which was complete bullshit. And when she refused to give the therapists the answers they wanted, they switched her to a new one, hoping for a ‘break through’. They would never get one.

Dr. Sydney tries a new approach. “Okay. Since you clearly don’t want to talk to me about your problems, why don’t you tell me about what’s been going on this week.”

Clarke sighs, tugging on the drawstrings of her hoodie. “Well, Costia has a piano recital tonight. Real big thing at the convention center. You know, huge deal. Then on Friday night, she’s hosting a party at our house because my parents will be out of town. You know what they say, you can never miss a Costia Griffin party.” 

Winking, Clarke sinks back down into the uncomfortable chair, her face a picture of nonchalance. She most certainly feels that way too.

Sarcastically, Clarke adds, “You’re not going to tell my mom, are you?” She laughs to no one but herself, but Dr. Sydney does not look amused.

She sets down her clipboard. “You talk an awful lot about your sister, you know that?”

Clarke immediately stiffens, but quickly changes her face back to her signature smirk. “Your point is?”

“I ask about your week, and all you have to talk about is Costia. All you ever talk about is Costia. Why is that?”

Clarke loves Costia, truly. It wasn’t Costia’s fault that she felt this way. When her mom adopted her when Clarke was 5, she was elated to get a new sister even though she was going to be four years older than her. But as they got older, things changed. Costia was still her absolute best friend, but there was always something off about their relationship.

“She’s my sister,” she defensively remarks, “why would I not talk about her?”

Dr. Sydney picks up her clipboard again, writing down something that Clarke cannot see. She has a small smile playing on her face, seemingly proud of herself. What in the world did she have to be proud of? There was no breakthrough, no sign of Clarke opening up. Clarke simply talked about her sister. 

“Let’s try something new. Why don’t you tell me more about her.” 

Clarke arches an eyebrow, but concedes nonetheless. Now this, Clarke didn’t have trouble doing. People asked her about Costia all the time, boys and girls alike. “She was born in South Africa, where she was in the foster care system until my parents adopted her. Now, she goes to Yale.” 

Clarke nods to herself, confirming something that Dr. Sydney never said aloud. “Yes, I know, Yale. She lives at home since it’s only a twenty minute drive, but she never missed the experience of living in the dorms. Nope, she brought the frat parties to our house instead.”

While Costia is incredibly smart, she is also very popular. Everyone knows who she is. As cliche as it sounds, every guy wants her and every girl wants to be her. And then most girls also just want her. The house was full of people nearly every weekend, or whenever Mom went to D.C. for meetings. Costia’s parties were unlike any other, endless booze, loud speakers, and most importantly, dozens of bedrooms.

Clarke hums. “Let’s see, what else is there. She is one of the best pianists in the country, has her own charity, and is an LGBTQ rights activist. The whole nine yards.”

The worst thing about her sister is that she is good person. She never wanted to hurt Clarke. Never intentionally made Clarke feel this way. It was a shame that she still did.

Dr. Sydney once again smiles to herself, the gesture now irritating Clarke. 

“And how does that make you feel?”

Clarke laughs, the sound raw and near maniacal. God, that is such a therapist thing to say. “I mean the parties get annoying after a while, but other than that, I’m proud of her.”

That wasn’t a lie. Clarke could not be more proud of Costia’s accomplishments, that much was true. Costia deserves success, and will get it.

Dr. Sydney nods, her eyes dazed like she has found the missing pieces of the puzzle.

“Does she know?”

Now Clarke is the confused one. “Does she know what?”

The woman doesn’t reply for a minute, and if this were a movie, she was sure that you could feel the anticipation grow. 

“That you feel like her shadow.”

And suddenly, Clarke’s resolve shatters. Sure, she knew that she felt that way, but hearing it aloud makes it all that more real. This time, she doesn’t make an effort to seem unbothered.

“No,” she swallows. “no she doesn’t.”

It is better this way. Costia didn’t deserve to be burdened with Clarke’s problems. It wasn’t her fault that Clarke is this way. It was no one’s but her own. So Clarke will continue to keep it to herself. One day she will get over it, she’s sure. But for now, there is no reason to strain her and Costia’s relationship over something so trivial.

Dr. Sydney doesn’t say anything else, but gives Clarke a look of pity. Clarke doesn’t want pity, she just doesn’t want to feel this way anymore. Isn’t it her job to make her feel better? 

The woman’s watch beeps, signaling that their time is up. Clarke immediately rises out of her chair, making her way towards the door. 

“Great chat, Dr. Sydney,” she says, plastering the fake, practiced smile she knows all too well, “see you next week.”

She doesn't wait for her to reply, just walks out the door. As she walks back to her car, Clarke feels a single tear fall from her face. It’s better this way she tells herself. 

It’s better this way.


	2. Turn the Fucking Music Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Costia throws another party, and Clarke meets someone.

Clarke tossed and turned in her bed. She normally didn’t have much trouble falling asleep when Costia was throwing a party downstairs, but tonight for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to.

Surrendering to her insomnia, she reluctantly gets up and winces as her feet hit the cold, wooden floor. Blame her for not wearing socks, but honestly, what type of psychopath wears socks to bed? 

She evaluates herself in the mirror, deciding that her old, incredibly oversized shirt and sleep shorts will do. On the way out, she is immediately met by a sea of people who are either judging her for her outfit or are too drunk to care.

She pushes past people, muttering a quiet ‘excuse me’ when she feels she needs to even though she knows that, logically, no one can hear her over the obnoxiously loud music. And then she spots her.

The infamous Costia. Her dark skin is glowing even from this far away, a light layer of sweat on her head from dancing. She commands attention, effortlessly swaying on the make shift dance floor with a group of girls Clarke faintly recognizes. She’s wearing a purple tube top and high-waisted white shorts, effectively turning the heads of everyone in the room. 

Clarke inwardly laughs at the possibility of herself wearing a tube top. She’d be pulling up the damn thing all night. Stupid boobs.

She makes her way towards the kitchen, and a guy who looks twice her age rolls his eyes over her body in a way that he must think will flatter her. He winks at her, and she flips him off. 

She shudders, mildly disgusted, and reaches for a glass in the cabinet. Clarke wishes that for just one weekend, she wouldn’t have to lose sleep over the loud music downstairs and the occasional hookup trying to use her bedroom for- well, that. 

“What are you wearing?”

Clarke turns around, greeted by a girl that looks about her age, maybe a year younger. She has long brown hair and piercing eyes that would be intimidating if Clarke wasn’t so tired. She’s wearing a leather jean jacket and jeans, one of the only people at this party that has actual clothes on.

Leaning against the fridge, she sips her water and says, “Armani.”

The other girl laughs, sticking out her hand. “Octavia Blake.”

Clarke shakes her hand, unfamiliar with the name. “Clarke Griffin,” she smiles, “‘nice to meet you.”

Octavia’s face flashes with a look of confusion, looking back to the spot on the dance floor that Costia was at. “Griffin as in-

“Yes,” Clarke replies, used to saying this every time she mentions her last name, “Costia is my sister.”

Octavia huffs, shaking her head. “Hm. I see the resemblance.”

Clarke laughs despite herself, and she realizes that this is the first time she has genuinely laughed in a long time. “Funny.”

They fall into easy conversation, and Clarke learns that Octavia just moved here, and lives with her older brother. Octavia is 17, like Clarke, and knows how to ride a motorcycle. Clarke makes her promise to teach her how to ride one. 

Two hours go by without either of them realizing it, and they exchange numbers before Octavia leaves.

On her way back up to her bedroom, Clarke thinks that maybe she would be happier if she invested more time in people other than her sister.

Just maybe.

——————————————

Clarke’s phone dings the next morning, and she is surprised to see that it’s a text from Octavia.

“hey, u free?”

She replies, “yeah, what’s up?”

Clarke didn’t have any social issues, and wasn’t rude, she just never really had any friends. She chalked it up to not having enough time for them with school getting in the way. But she figures one friend couldn’t do much harm.

Her phone dings again. “do you wanna come over? i’m bored.”

Octavia sends Clarke her address, and as she pulls up, she takes in the exterior of her house. It’s tiny, but seems to be in relatively good shape. It’s white and has windows painting the outside, not a single one of them open. She notices dead flowers in what looks to be a garden, but figures they just don’t have time to pull them out.

When Clarke knocks on the door, the person who answers is decidedly not Octavia. 

He looks like her, but is about 5 inches taller. She has to tilt her chin up just to look him in the eyes. He’s intimidating in a quiet type of way. He doesn’t have the forced smile on his face that most people have when answering the door, but instead looks annoyed.

“Can I help you, princess?” He says, his voice deep, soothing, and absolutely nothing like the boys at her school sound like.

Clarke takes him in, all inky curls and olive skin. His broad shoulders are covered by an olive green t-shirt and a leather jean jacket similar to the one that Octavia was wearing last night. Objectively, he’s good looking. Attractive even. Shame he is an ass.

“Princess?”

Clarke realizes she is staring but quickly recovers. “Princess,” she furrows her brows, “really?”

He points at her hoodie, and she looks down to realize that it displays her school’s name, Arkadia Preparatory Academy.

His mouth turns into the faintest hint of a smirk, but his voice is the picture of indifference. “If the crown fits.” 

Clarke is shocked and admittedly, a little relieved. Her entire life, she has either been surrounded by people who overwhelmed her with their fake pleasantries and shit-eating grins, or adults who “sympathized with her situation” and treated her like a child. Transparency was something new, and Clarke welcomed it.

“I see you’ve met my douchebag of a brother.” 

Both of them turn away from each other, watching Octavia move towards them.

“Sorry, he isn’t always like this. He doesn’t take well to new people.” She says, swatting his arm, but the playfulness is adamant.

Then, he smiles, and Clarke is kind of stunned. Perfect rows beam at Octavia, a gesture that looks like it was only ever meant for her.

“O, since when are you friends with Arkadia bitches?” He points his finger at Clarke, but doesn’t look towards her.

‘O’ rolls her eyes, but doesn’t miss a beat. “Maybe if you gave one of them the time of day,” she looks and Clarke and gives a soft smile, “you would learn that they aren’t all bad. I happen to know one who is pretty cool.”

She winks at Clarke, taking her by the hand and leading her inside.

When she turns around, the older Blake is still looking at her. Clarke raises her eyes brows expectantly, but all she gets is a scoff. 

“Sorry about that.” 

She shifts her focus back to Octavia, trying to mentally shake the image of him from her head.

“Don’t be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! so clarke meets bellamy this chapter... dun dun dun ;) once again, all feedback is welcome and appreciated!
> 
> sorry that this is short, i needed to update and thought that this was a good stopping point. next chap will be longer
> 
> ig and twitter- sxnsetlr (edits)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this is my first story, so sorry if it is bad. the story will start developing in the next chapter, but I feel like having backstory about Clarke and Costia was important. all kudos and feedback are appreciated!
> 
> ig: sxnsetlr (edits)


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